It was such an innocuous thing, really. A manila folder extracted from his locking briefcase and placed on the table while Adelaide handled the baby. A bland, normal thing that might have incited ire or irritation had it been placed on the table by a bland, normal man: someone who normally committed the sin of bringing his work home to the dinner table.
Except TR Lansing didn't bring work home. His briefcase was kept locked, for the most part. As did his office desk. He sometimes spread his maps out on the kitchen table late at night, when he thought his wife to be asleep. On a rare occasion when he was alone with Charlie while Adelaide stayed overnight at the med center, he might break out paperwork, but not when she was home. Not in the middle of dinner.
It was courtesy, rather than distrust, that kept him from doing so. If they were home together, then she deserved his full attention. If he was at the office, then his work took precedence. Robert was very careful about keeping the two separate, compartmentalized in his mind. Adelaide was home and didn't need to be bothered by the minutiae of his day to day. The complications that kept their home in tact.
Tonight would have to be different. It pained him to break the rigid barrier between his office and his family, but he was legitimately concerned for his family's sake. There was no getting around that.
So the file sat there. A mild, manila rectangle looking all forlorn against the wood top. It wasn't terribly thick, but it wasn't empty, either. Big enough for documents, photographs... perhaps a brief transcript. The man barely looks at it after it's placed. He just sits as he was directed to, benign patience as he waits for his dinner. His eyes going between his wife plating their food and his son playing with a teething ring with a definite softness, but not much else in the way of emotional tells.
TR Lansing was a hard man to play poker against.
"No," he replies, in response to her statement, and here there alights tangible emotion in his face. Lips turn upwards in an almost flustered half-smile and tone warms with approval. "I didn't think you would."
Whatever else she might be, Adelaide was clever. It was one of the things that elevated her above other women -- other people -- in his eyes. He hadn't married a woman who could be described as meek or vapid. Had never wanted to. He'd chosen her as his partner because she'd been beautiful and quick and able to say no to him. She'd made it clear from the start that he'd have to meet her standards for their relationship to continue, not the other way around, and he loved her for that.
He lets her finish serving and sit down, herself, before he adds: "I don't underestimate you, you know."